


Whatever It Takes

by Hils



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-20
Updated: 2017-11-20
Packaged: 2019-02-04 20:00:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12778425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hils/pseuds/Hils
Summary: “What’s happening is we’re going to rescue our ridiculous captain from an evening of misery. Which is especially ridiculous considering he just won the fucking world championship."





	Whatever It Takes

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this right after Sweden won Worlds back in May (yes, I'm slow). This fic takes place right after the final game between Canada and Sweden.
> 
> Thanks to Rolly for the beta job <3

Losing sucks. 

That probably goes without saying and god knows Tyson’s had enough experience with it over the last season. But here he is again, surrounded by the sad faces of his friends and teammates. It’s never a good feeling but somehow this is worse. When you’re on a losing team there’s at least the solidarity of knowing you went through it together, that whatever the result you did your best. Watching from behind the glass, knowing you could be out there helping, is the worst feeling. And it’s even worse because it’s his own dumb fault. 

He sits quietly in the locker room, taking in the subdued atmosphere. The fact that it had been so close, coming right down to a shootout, is weighing heavily on everyone. One slight difference, and they’d be celebrating right now. 

As people change and file out to the bus, he offers muted words of commiseration . The words sound hollow even to him but he gets some thanks and pats on the shoulder. No one blames him for getting hurt, or at least no one has made any indication that they blame him. It’s hard to tell with a bunch of guys that, for most of the year, he’s playing against. Maybe it’ll come out on the ice during the season. 

He shifts the weight on his crutches. He’s better at moving around on them now but Nate always insists on walking him to his room door whenever they get back to the hotel. It’s almost as though Nate doesn’t trust him not to fall and further injure himself. It’s hurtful even if it might be a fair point. 

When Nate finally arrives he looks drained. Shootout games are especially rough and there are shadows under Nate’s eyes already. There’s nothing Tyson can say or do to make this better, so he pulls Nate into a quick hug.

“You ready to go?”

Nate nods and they head out to the bus. By this point Tyson has perfected the art of getting on and off the bus with his crutches but as he always does Nate hovers behind him in case he needs help. 

They make it to their seats without incident and as soon as they’re settled Nate closes his eyes. It’s only a short trip back to the hotel but Tyson imagines Nate will be asleep before they get there. Leaving him to rest he pulls his phone out of his pocket. There’s texts from a few of the guys offering their commiserations and saying what a good game it was. He’ll reply to those later. He scrolls through Twitter quickly. Unsurprisingly there’s already photos of Team Sweden celebrating and, well, at least Gabe and Carl look happy. 

Hockey is weird. So often you end up playing against guys who used to be on your team or who still are. He’s happy Gabe is happy, but that doesn’t make the sting of the loss any better. 

He slips his phone back into his pocket. He’s not quite ready to deal with texts, emails or photos. Maybe tomorrow after he’s slept. 

***

By the time they get back to the hotel, as Tyson had predicted, Nate is asleep and has shifted so that his head is resting on Tyson’s shoulder. Usually this would be the point where Tyson would take a dumb selfie and post it on Instagram with an accompanying funny comment. His heart isn’t in it today, though, so he opts for just nudging Nate awake. Once Nate has grabbed his bag they head up to their floor and true to form Nate walks Tyson to his room first. 

“See you in...fuck, a few hours?”

Nate’s voice is low and raspy with sleep. Booking the flight for their vacation for early in the morning is now feeling like a really stupid idea. 

“See you in the morning,” Tyson agrees. He kind of wants to give Nate another hug but he looks about ready to drop so instead Tyson gives him a pat on the arm and heads into his room. 

He may have mastered the art of getting around on his crutches but changing his clothes is still something of an ordeal. He’s glad he’s not sharing a room with anyone because there is nothing at all dignified about lying down and shimmying out of your pants so they don’t catch on the wound on your leg. 

By the time he’s managed to get out of his clothes and brush his teeth he’s exhausted and crawling into bed has never felt so good. 

He sets an alarm and grimaces when he realises he has to be up again in five hours. 

Setting the phone down beside the bed he flips off the light and closes his eyes. Almost immediately his phone beeps with a text. Groaning he picks up his phone and doesn’t even look at the screen before switching it onto silent. 

Tomorrow. Everything will feel better tomorrow.

With that resolution in his mind he closes his eyes again and falls asleep almost immediately

***

He wakes after what feels like seconds of being asleep. The room is still in total darkness and his alarm hasn’t gone off so he has no idea why he’s awake. 

That’s when he realises someone is standing next to his bed. A dark outline in an already dark room.

Tyson most definitely does not scream.

“Shut up!” Nate hisses when Tyson is done definitely not screaming. “You’ll wake up half the hotel.”

“What the hell are you doing in my room?” Tyson asks when his heart rate has slowed down to something vaguely approaching normal. 

“You gave me a key.”

For a second Tyson has no idea what Nate is talking about and then he remembers Nate demanding a key after Tyson has hurt his leg ‘in case you fall on your ass and can’t get back up’.

“That key is for emergencies!”

Having established that Tyson is now actually awake Nate flips on the light, causing Tyson to wince and pull one of the pillows over his face. 

“This is an emergency,” Nate replies and Tyson can hear him moving around the room doing something. He’s not sure he wants to know what. “Haven’t you heard your phone?”

“It’s on silent.”

Curiosity finally wins out over shielding his eyes and Tyson slowly removes the pillow from his face. Nate is standing back next to the bed, his arms full of the clothes Tyson had left on the floor after getting ready for bed. If it’s possibly Nate actually looks worse than he did on the bus. A cold dread settles over him.

“Fuck, what’s happened? Is someone hurt? God, has someone died?”

“What? No, nothing like that. Carl’s been texting you. And calling you. And when you didn’t answer he started calling me.”

Relief floods through him and he flops back down onto the bed. “Carl’s wasted and celebrating. Turn off your phone and go back to sleep.”

Nate drops the pile of clothes onto the bed next to Tyson and grinds the heel of his hand in his eye.

“Just read the texts, okay?”

Tyson lets out a pathetic moan in the hope that Nate will take pity on him and go away. Instead he’s met with a stubborn glare which he knows all too well means Nate isn’t going anywhere. 

With a sigh he picks up his phone and winces when the glare from the screen shines into his eyes.

There’s five missed calls from Carl, and a bunch of texts. He reads those first. 

_Gabe’s wasted._

_Haha. He’s telling everyone how awesome you are_

_Hedman made fun of you for getting hurt. I think Gabe is going to fight him_

_It’s okay we gave them more champagne and now they’re hugging and singing_

_Gabe looks sad._

_He says he misses you_

_I know it’s late but is there any chance you can meet us? I can’t deal with Gabe’s sad face._

Once he’s read all the messages he scrolls up and reads them all again.

“Is this for real?”

Nate tosses his own phone onto the bed and when Tyson picks it up he can see all the texts Carl has sent him too.

_Why isn’t Tys answering his phone? Kick him_

_Seriously this is pathetic_

Attached is a photo of Gabe sitting in the corner of a booth in whatever club the team had gone to celebrate in and he’s staring morosely at his drink. 

Tyson stares at the photo. That is not the face of a man who has just won Worlds. 

“Huh.”

“Come on,” Nate says, plucking his phone from Tyson’s fingers. “We’re going out.”

Tyson’s now half convinced that this is just a really elaborate dream that they’ll all laugh about when they’re on the plane to Italy in the morning. Except Nate is now staring expectantly at him.

“Nate?”

“Yeah?”

“What’s happening?”

“What’s happening is we’re going to rescue our ridiculous captain from an evening of misery. Which is especially ridiculous considering he just won the fucking world championship. Now come on, get dressed. I’ll arrange a cab to take us to the bar.”

***

Carl had obviously sent word that they were coming because as soon as they arrive they’re ushered upstairs and into the VIP area. It’s loud and hot and normally Tyson would be totally up for some dancing and drinking. But his leg hurts, he’s barely slept and his team just lost. And, honestly, he still doesn’t know why he’s here.

“Heeeeeey!” 

Tyson only gets a glimpse of Nylander before he almost topples over when Nylander launches himself at Tyson and wraps him in a hug. 

Tyson finds himself being squeezed so tight he’s concerned breathing might be an issue. 

“Sorry you lost, dude,” Nylander murmurs against Tyson’s neck. “But I’m not sorry we won.” 

Honestly he has no idea what to say so that so he settles for an ‘uh huh’ and awkwardly pats Nylander on the back while also trying to stay upright with his crutches. 

Luckily Lundqvist (he can’t tell which one it’s too dark) comes over and extracts Nylander from his arms. 

“If you’re looking for Gabe, he’s over there.”

He gestures towards the back of the room where a few of the guys are sat around a table drinking. 

“Come on,” Nate says as Lundqvist steers Nylander away from them, “Let’s go and find our dumb captain.”

Still in caretaker mode Nate waits for Tyson to move over to the table before falling in behind him so that he can help if Tyson has any problems with his leg. 

Carl meets them before they get there and gives them both a quick hug before flashing Tyson a sheepish smile. “Thanks for coming. I wouldn’t have called but, honestly, he’s dragging the rest of us down.”

Tyson peers over Carl’s shoulder. Gabe’s still sat in what looks like the corner from the photo. Someone has refilled his glass and he’s just staring at it. 

A protective feeling swells in his chest. He doesn’t know why Gabe looks so sad after a huge win but whatever the reason Tyson will do whatever he can to fix it. 

“Did he say what’s wrong?” The first step to fixing a problem is figuring out the cause. 

Carl stares at him. Long enough that it makes him start to squirm. Then Carl looks past him to Nate. “Is he serious?”

Behind him he hears Nate sigh. “Look, you’ve been with us for a couple of years now. You must have realised Tyson isn’t always the most observant off the ice.”

“Hey!”

He turns around to face Nate, scowling when Nate attempts to look innocent. 

“I see things,” he protests.

“Really? Gabe’s been on our team for years and you’ve never noticed that he’s into you.”

Wait, what?

“He gets like this every year,” Carl adds, moving around so that he’s standing next to Nate. “He says he misses you.”

That can’t be right because they text all the time over the summer. It’s not always easy when Gabe is in Sweden and he’s in BC but they make it work. Gabe definitely isn’t pining or whatever it is Nate and Carl think is happening. It must be something else. 

He opens his mouth to tell them that they’re wrong but before he can speak Nate cuts him off. 

“Carl’s going to get me a drink.”

“Am I?” Nate not subtly elbows him in the side. “Sorry, I mean I am. English is the first thing that goes when I’ve been drinking.”

Nate rolls his eyes. “Whatever. Carl’s going to get me a drink and you are going to go and talk to Gabe. I think I can speak for the whole team when I say we’re done with all this.”

“EJ thinks it’s funny,” Carl adds with a helpful smile. “I mean apart from when he was sharing a room with Gabe and had to hear him talk about you all the time.”

Nate elbows him in the side again. 

“Go and talk to him. Because I swear to god if you two don’t sort your shit out I’m going to make you both do bag skates at every practice.”

“Gabe’s the captain,” Tyson protests weakly.

“I. Don’t. Care.”

Tyson actually takes a step back. Nate’s actually serious about this.

“Okay, fine.”

He watches as Nate and Carl walk towards the bar and then turns his attention back to Gabe. Honestly, he’d do pretty much anything to see Gabe smile again but if this is some sort of joke Tyson is going to quit the team and move somewhere far away.

The few guys sitting around the table with Gabe look positively elated when they seem him approaching and within seconds they’ve all conveniently decided to be elsewhere, leaving them alone with as much privacy as you can get in a club. 

“So,” Tyson says as he carefully eases himself down next to Gabe. “You don’t look like someone who just won Worlds.”

Gabe jerks back from his drink, apparently startled out of whatever he was thinking about. Then he just stares at Tyson and, honestly, he’s about done with people he knows staring at him tonight.

“Tys?” Gabe finally says, like he’s not quite sure this is real. “What are you doing here?”

He shrugs, aiming for nonchalance but not really sure it carries with the way his heart is pounding in his chest. “Oh, you know, I was just passing by.”

Gabe grins and, okay, he’s pretty wasted. “I was just telling Carl I missed you, and now you’re here.”

Tyson can’t help the warm smile that crosses his face. “Yeah, Carl called me. Except I didn’t answer so he called Nate. Nate’s pretty mad by the way so you probably owe him a fruit basket or something.”

“I’ll buy him a puppy or something. I’m just glad you’re here.”

“Me too,” Tyson admits. Honestly, he’d been trying not to think about it too much. He channelled his energy into Worlds, then when he got hurt he was focussed on being there for Nate and for planning their vacation. He loves the summer break. It’s a chance to unwind and recharge before working on his training. But the worst part of it is being on a different continent and in a totally different timezone to Gabe. That had been the most appealing part about going on vacation in Italy, even if he hadn’t mentioned that to the others. 

Now Gabe is staring at him, a warm and open smile on his face. Fuck, Nate was right. Tyson will never admit it to him of course, but he might chip in towards the puppy.

“Are you staying?” Gabe asks and Tyson is suddenly aware that he’s still hovering by the table awkwardly on his crutches. 

“Yeah, if you tell me why you’re sitting here with a gold medal around your neck looking like someone just stole your dog.”

He eases himself down into one of the seats as carefully as he can and Gabe slides his glass of champagne over.

“Thanks, man, but I can’t. Doctor’s have got me on an awesome cocktail of pain meds.”

If he was possible Gabe’s face falls even more, as though he’d forgotten Tyson had been standing there on crutches for the past few minutes.

“Shit. I forgot. How’s the leg?”

Tyson shrugs. “Hurts.”

“What happened? I mean I read about it but I couldn’t text you and ask.”

Having the ‘no texting while we’re playing against each other’ rule had seemed like a good idea at the time but not being able to text Gabe when Sweden had done well really kind of sucked. And it hadn’t even occurred to him that Gabe might have been worried about him.

“I’ll tell you about it later,” he promises. Because there’s no way he’s admitting what happened in a public place. 

“But you’re okay?”

“Yeah, I mean I will be.”

Gabe is staring at him again now. All open and concerned with his stupid hair, chiseled jaw and amazing eyes. Damn, he really wants to kiss him. 

“Do you want to get out of here?” Gabe suddenly asks. 

“Uh, yeah?” Tyson replies. “Won’t your teammates be mad if we leave in the middle of the party though?”

“Oh, please do,” Hedman says as he’s walking past. “He’s killing the mood for the rest of us.”

Gabe actually blushes and, fuck, that’s the most adorable thing Tyson has ever seen.

He carefully eases out of his seat and almost stumbles reaching for his crutches. 

“I got you.”

He hadn’t even seen Gabe move but suddenly he’s there, holding Tyson close with one arm and using the other to get his crutches. Christ, he smells good. 

He hands Tyson one of the crutches and keeps hold of the other, taking its place and wrapping an arm around his waist to support him.

“You good?” Gabe asks, leaning in so close Tyson can feel his breath warming his ear.

“Yeah.”

Between them they stumble out of the club and the cool night air makes Tyson shiver. 

“How far is your hotel?” Gabe asks.

“About five minutes by cab,” Tyson replies.

“I guess we’re going to your place then.”

Wait, what?

He must be staring or something because suddenly Gabe looks less certain.

“I mean, I think we need to talk and I’d rather not do it out here on the street.”

Tyson can’t help the nervous laugh that bubbles out of his mouth. “So we’re going to talk about our feelings? Can I order ice cream? Do I get to braid your hair too?”

Actually, having his fingers in Gabe’s hair sounds pretty fucking awesome. 

Gabe shrugs. “If you want.”

Tyson almost drops his phone in his haste to call them a cab and fires off a quick text to Nate.

_Gabe’s with me. DO NOT USE YOUR KEY TO MY ROOM_

***

In the darkness of the cab, the lights of the city flashing past them Tyson feels Gabe’s hand slide over the top of his. Okay, this is really happening. 

Luckily for them most of Team Canada is either asleep or drowning their sorrows quietly in their room. They don’t run into anyone they know as they head up to Tyson’s room.

Gabe perches on the end of the bed and Tyson heads straight to the phone and orders ice cream from room service when he hangs up Gabe is staring at him with an amused smile.

“What?”

“I kind of thought you were kidding about the ice cream.”

“I never joke about dessert.”

Gabe laughs. “No, of course. How stupid of me to think otherwise.”

Tyson eases himself down onto the bed next next to Gabe, letting out a groan of pain when he accidentally jostles his injury. He’s such a fucking idiot. After all this time something is finally going to happen with Gabe and he can barely move because he injured himself.

Gabe’s face twists in concern. “You okay?”

Tyson nods. Honestly, he feels like enough of an idiot for doing this to himself without Gabe looking at him all earnest and concerned with his stupid Captain face. He’s about to tell Gabe all about his stupid face when there’s a knock at the door.

“Room service.”

“I’ll get it,” Gabe says, and that’s probably a good thing because now that Tyson is sat down he really doesn’t want to get up again. 

“You sure you ordered enough?” Gabe asks as he head back over to the bed with a large bowl in his hands. “And three different types of syrup?”

“Shut up. We lost. It’s comfort food. And since you are all sad and stuff even though you won I’ll share with you. Now come and sit down.”

But Gabe doesn’t sit down. Instead he stares at Tyson and if people, especially Gabe, would stop staring at him that would be awesome. 

“You’re going to share your ice cream?” Gabe asks after a moment. “With me?”

“Well not if you keep standing there with it. Come and sit down before it melts.”

It’s not the biggest bed but with some slight shuffling they’re able to sit shoulder to shoulder with the bowl settled between them. The hotel had only sent up one spoon so Gabe has to make do with one of the teaspoons that came with the tea and coffee in the room. 

Tyson slides the spoon between his lips and lets out a contented moan. It’s not the best ice cream he’s ever had but it’s still damn good. 

“I worry about your relationship with dessert,” Gabe says as he takes a spoonful for himself. 

“And I worry about you,” Tyson replies. “Seriously, who doesn’t like ice cream?”

“I like ice cream!” Gabe protests. “I just don’t want to eat it for every single meal.”

“Your loss,” Tyson shrugs as he shovels another spoonful in his mouth. 

Gabe sighs and loads a pathetically small amount of ice cream onto his stupidly small spoon before he eats it. 

Usually when Gabe is doing something as unfair as putting things in his mouth in front of Tyson, Tyson makes an excuse to leave the room. Or, turns his attention to Nate and starts a conversation about the most boring thing he can think of. It has backfired spectacularly the time he started talking to Nate about paint for a redecorating job he’d just made up. Nate had showed up the next day with sample charts.

This time it’s different, though. They’re here, alone, in a hotel room, eating ice cream because Gabe _missed him_. He’s still not entirely convinced that this isn’t just a weirdly realistic dream.

He glances down at the bowl of ice cream nestled between them and then at Gabe who is licking the ice cream of his spoon. Seriously, stuff like that should be illegal. Suddenly he’s not hungry any more and he picks up the bowl and sets it down on the table next to the bed.

Gabe looks at him in concern. “Are you okay?”

“Did you really spend the night you won gold at Words moping because you missed me?”

Gabe lowers his eyes, his cheeks turning pink again. Damn, why does he have to be so adorable?

“I know it’s stupid,” Gabe says. “I mean I was happy, of course, but then we started drinking and I couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that we were in the same city and I wasn’t going to see you before I went home.”

All Tyson can do is stare at him. Honestly, this idiot is going to be the death of him. 

He tries to shuffle closer but it’s difficult with his leg. God, he is such an idiot. In every possible way. Gabe closes the distance between them before Tyson can further injure himself.

“Hey, careful.”

He places a hand on Tyson’s shoulder to still him and just like that it’s like something explodes inside him. He turns his head and captures Gabe’s mouth with his, kissing him hard and deep. Gabe responds, kissing him back and cupping Tyson’s cheek in his hand drawing him closer. 

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” Gabe murmurs and, okay, maybe Nate was right about Tyson being a bit slow. 

“I’m right here,” he promises, brushing his fingers through Gabe’s hair. God, it feels so good. 

He’s hard now, and he really wants Gabe but his stupid fucking leg.

“Want you,” he tells Gabe in case that’s in anyway unclear. He tries to move a little just to see if he can manage. A stabbing pain answers his question and he can’t help the hiss that escapes his lips.

Gabe is back to looking concerned again now. “Just hold still, okay? Let me take care of you.”

Tyson nods, and watches through heavy lidded eyes as Gabe slowly unbuttons Tyson’s shirt, eases it down off his shoulders and tosses it on the floor. Tysons socks are next, removed with the same care. Tyson braces himself when Gabe gets to work on his pants and boxers, lifting his hips and preparing himself for the inevitable pain.

His eyes open when he hears the sound of his pants joining the rest of his clothes on the floor.

“How did you do that? It didn’t hurt at all.”

Gabe grins at him. “I’ve got magic hands.”

He wraps one of them around Tyson’s cock to prove his point. 

Jesus Christ it feels good. 

When Gabe puts his mouth on Tyson’s dick he can’t help but gasp. It’s cold from the ice cream they’ve been eating.

As Gabe sucks and licks Tyson writhes and gasps, coming with a cry after a few minutes.

“I think you might have a magic mouth too,” he groans when Gabe crawls up the bed and lays down next to him. 

He props himself up on one arm. “You’re still dressed.”

Right now he wants nothing more than to get his hands on Gabe, to touch every inch of him. 

Gabe smiles and stands up before slowly, painfully slowly, unbuttoning his shirt.

So, Gabe’s an exhibitionist. Good to know. 

When his clothes are finally off Gabe climbs back onto the bed next to Tyson. 

“Now it’s my turn to take care of you,” Tyson promises. 

And Gabe isn’t the only one who can tease. 

Tyson brushes just the very tips of his fingers along the shaft of Gabe’s cock, grinning when Gabe shudders and muffles a small groan.

He continues that for a couple of minutes, touching him so lightly he’s barely touching him at all and enjoying the gasps and whimpers Gabe is making. Finally, wraps his hand around and strokes him to completion. 

Warm and naked they curl up against each other. Tyson fumbles for his phone and groans when he sees the time. 

“I have to be at the airport in like four hours?”

Gabe cups Tyson’s hand in his and tilts the phone towards him so he can see the clock.

“Yeah, me too.”

They don’t mention that he still needs to go back to his hotel and pack his things.

“Two hour nap?” Tyson suggests. “I mean if you want to stay.”

Gabe huffs and pulls the comforter over them both. “I thought you were done being an idiot.”

Ah, so they were back to the insults. Good. That was a solid foundation on which to build their relationship.

“I’ll stop being an idiot when your giant head shrinks a few sizes.”

Gabe snorts a laugh and kisses him.


End file.
